Sometimes You Hear The Bullet
by Mystic Angel 007
Summary: Face's POV, reflection on the death of a close friend. Quite sad. Just a shortie.


**Title:** Sometimes You Hear the Bullet

**Rating**: K+

**Author:** aussie-bones

Face's POV, reflection on the death of a close friend.

War is something I cannot say I am fond of and yet I cannot say I hate it, either, as to do so would disrespect all of the men I fought alongside that never made it home. War brings out the very best and yet the very worst in human nature; it is the ultimate kill or be killed scenario when you truthfully don't know how you will react until you are faced with it. This new generation plays video war games and is unaffected by the scenes they play. So many don't know what men like you or I endured - the malice, hatred, fear, confusion, depression, and the chaos of a live fire fight. Real death, real blood, sounds of screaming men dying echoing the jungle, the senseless waste of young lives, very real breakdowns.

Back then I was running from my past, my youth, lied about my age to get away and fight a war in a foreign country. I was too headstrong, opinionated, and cocky for my own good. I was reckless and stupid and it took you to tame me, train me how to survive and think a few steps ahead. Your lessons have served me well ever since, old friend.

Aside from being in a war zone, I found a place where I belonged, people around whom I could be me and not hide behind a façade. I was looking forward to getting back to the States, all four of us, and keeping in touch as we moved on with our lives.

On that horrible day my buddy and mentor's life was taken away by the bullet of someone he never saw. In the midst of an ambush, so close to home base, yet too damn far for the medics to do any good once it was safe for them. He was gone.

Now I stand beside this grave, his grave, a hero to those that knew him and forgotten by those that booed when the likes of me came back, alive, defeated, and a little cracked.

At least this place is kept nice; you deserve that for giving your life for your country... for me. Now I know that was why you pushed me into the muddy ground. You knew. But damn you, without you, I was more scared than when I first shipped out. Murdock and B.A. took me under their wings and kept me alive. I'm grateful to them for that - they didn't have to - but as I watched you bleed out on the jungle floor, part of me died too.

As I never knew my father, I came to see you as a surrogate after the first few months. You'd help me through the nightmares that so many of us had; you saw potential in me that I didn't see in myself. It wasn't the same with Murdock, though, bless him, he tried to fill your boots.

I know you did it to save me but you should have let me take the hit. It was meant for me. It should have been me lying in the jungle and you screaming out my name, not the way it was. I cried for so long... the medics had to pull me off your body. I refused to let go, to accept that this time you weren't going to get up.

At times I still expect to see you around the next corner, you know? Cigar in one hand, beer in the other and that trademark grin...

I should have come to see you long ago, but I couldn't. The pain was still too much. Still is, but many years have passed now and you deserve a goodbye from me, sir.

**.Salutes the headstone.**

Those of us that made it back from hell alive we won't forget you or any of our fallen comrades. And I promise, I shall come back one day and perhaps I will be able to kneel beside your resting place with dry eyes.

Goodbye, sir. Thank you for taking that scared, arrogant, and slightly suicidal brat and shaping me into what I am today. I owe you more than I can ever repay, but I will keep your every word of encouragement and advice alive. I'm off now, sir, but the first bar I come to I shall raise a glass of Scotch in your honour. Farewell.

Rest in peace, buddy of mine. I will never forget you or that brash sense of humour that made many of us smile in that hell hole. Such a strategic mind like no one I have met since.

_Lt. Col John 'Hannibal' Smith_

_KIA_

_1971_


End file.
